


Pockets Plenty Big 'Nough

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Americana, Endgame Polyamory, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Other, Polyamory, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, early 2000s, major death not the main three jsyk, more like ihop and fuel stop gothic, non-binary john marston, southeast gothic, this is a comfort and healing fic i swear, three way pining, two idiots and a sensible man in love, van der linde ranch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 21:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: “Is this an invitation, Johnny?” Charles asks, imitating Arthur.“Oh- Don’t,” John scowls at the older man and starts folding the map back up, “It’s a goddamn deathwish, askin’ you and Arthur to gang up on me, s’what it is.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> major death is in regards to eliza and isaac and arthur's grief over them  
> uh roughly set in 2003/4 somewhere around there  
> john is twenty, charles is 25 and arthur is 30 to make things easy
> 
> john's truck is a 7thgen/early 80s f-series with a bench front and high top bed cap but other than that it's not super specific i just know for a fact some of those beds fit a queen perfectly
> 
> they're starting in west-central texas and going east

Charles is the only one of them who knows jackshit about cars.

So, when it came time for John to get his own car, now that he was running errands for the ranch, Charles agreed to help him.

The older man would help John fix a junker and John would take half of Charles’ grunt work around the ranch until the car was running.

\--

John sits propped up on a metal toolbox as he watches Charles tinker with something under the hood.

And if his eyes stutter over the slip of skin between waistband and shirt hem, exposed by the stretch of Charles’ arms reaching into the guts of the truck, could he really be blamed?

Charles steps over to him and John blinks in surprise as the older man bats at his dangling legs until John spreads them to either side of the toolbox.

“You’re inconvenient,” Charles mutters and opens one of the drawers, framed by John’s legs, and digs through the rusty tools.

“You sound like Arthur,” John bitches and purposefully catches his toe on Charles’ thigh when the older man pulls away.

The firm glower he’s fixed with has him pressing his lips together sheepishly.

“Get down and hold this,” Charles instructs, waiting for John to get close before guiding the younger’s fingers to pinch some wires in place.

John can barely process what the older man is explaining, too distracted by their proximity and the heat of his own face.

\--

Arthur follows Charles across the ranch one day, deep in a conversation about Dutch’s decision to sell a chunk of the land.

“He won’t even tell us who’s buyin’!” John hears Arthur say.

John quirks a brow and watches the two older men come around the corner from his perch on the toolbox.

“Hi, John,” Charles greets him with a nod and moves to hop into the driver’s seat after setting a bag in John’s lap, “Open those up for me.”

“Hey, Johnny,” Arthur tosses at him before hopping into the passenger seat to continue his rant in hushed tones.

John works to open the packaging for all the various parts in the bag, being cautious of not damaging anything, occasionally looking up at Arthur and Charles’ heads low and close in the cab.

\--

Abigail breaks up with him and he starts seeing her around with Sadie a week later.

It mostly rolls off his back but there’s a strange emptiness in sleeping in a queen bed by himself.

\--

Something’s wrong with Arthur but the bastard won’t admit it.

John swears everyone can see the dark cloud hanging over Arthur’s head and they’re all on eggshells around the older man.

\--

Arthur’s late-night wandering of the ranch at night is aimless.

Yanking on his boots and walking around until he’s too exhausted to stay on his feet is preferable to trying to drown himself in whiskey.

He isn’t expecting to run into anyone.

He can see the little light in the distance and frowns, wondering if something got left on by accident.

As he gets closer he realizes it’s coming from the shed they use as a garage and more specifically from inside John’s truck.

He rolls his eyes and hopes the cab is unlocked so he can turn whatever it is off and scold John about running down the battery.

But the light isn’t coming from in the cab, it’s just a lantern on the toolbox John normally sits on.

Arthur frowns and moves closer to turn it off or take it with him when he sees John through the window on the bed cap.

Curled up in the truck bed.

Arthur feels his own face scrunch up in confusion and concern, overriding his thoughts of Eliza and Isaac.

“John?” Arthur asks softly, tapping on the cracked-open window.

The younger grumbles something unintelligible then shoots up into a sitting position.

Arthur’s relieved the top of the cap is high enough John’s head is spared from what could’ve been an awful collision.

“Art?” John asks through a yawn.

“The hell’re you sleepin’ out here for?” Arthur asks as he goes around to the tailgate and looks in.

Surprised.

John’s got a cozy set up in here, the bed lined with an old mattress and some blankets, snacks, a walkman, and headphones.

Arthur snorts and climbs in.

“Hey,” John protests tiredly, “Take off your boots first, dammit.”  
  
Arthur rolls his eyes but sits on the edge of the mattress to shuck them before crawling the rest of the way in.

John scoots to one side and once Arthur’s really in he’s honestly amazed by how much room there is.

“Abigail kick you out, or somethin’?” Arthur asks as he flops onto his back.

There are glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the roof of the cap and Arthur can’t fight the laugh it startles out of him.

He reaches up to pick one off only to be pinched in the side by John.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” The younger grumbles, laying back down and burrowing into the blankets, “Took forever to get them to stick.”

John’s dark eyes track him, half-lidded, prepared to strike again if necessary.

Arthur raises his hands innocently then links his fingers and rests them on his stomach, laying back down fully.

“So, why are you out here?” Arthur asks.

“Why are you?” John shoots back.

Arthur huffs but the sadness that’s been driving him from his bed every night starts creeping back in.

“Hey…” John murmurs and pokes Arthur in the ribs, “Seriously, what’s been up with you?”

“You first,” Arthur says, but there’s desperation lurking in his voice that drives worry into John’s heart.

“Me and Abi split,” John says softly, “‘Bout two weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Arthur murmurs, “But she has her own bed?”

“Yeah, it’s not like she asked me to sleep out here,” John mutters, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, “I just don’t feel right in that room, we’ve shared it for so long, and without all her shit it’s just… empty.”

Arthur hums his understanding and crosses his legs.

“So…” John starts hesitantly, “I know Dutch and Hosea know, but they said it’s your business.”

John moves his hand to squeeze Arthur’s upper arm in a way he hopes is reassuring.

“It is my business,” Arthur says gruffly but doesn’t move away from the touch.

“Well, your business is worryin’ the rest of us, Arthur.”

“Eliza and Isaac…” Arthur clears his throat, “They was robbed... and shot.”

“What?” John asks, turning towards the older man fully, face full of open shock, “Why’re you here, then?”

“John… They didn’t make it,” Arthur mutters, “I didn’t even know until I went to visit and they weren’t… They were already buried.”

“Oh, holy shit, Arthur,” John whispers and moves closer, tightening his grip on the older man’s arm, “Her family didn’t say nothin’?”

“Nah,” Arthur says thickly, “They ain’t never liked me. Blamed me for ruinin’ her life. They were right, I suppose.”

John’s brows furrow in his distress before he squirms closer and wraps himself around Arthur tightly, wedging his arms under the larger man.

“John,” Arthur mutters, hesitant.

It’s pretty well known that Arthur ain’t fond of being touched.

But John can’t think of what else to do, right now, so he just squeezes harder, pressing his face into Arthur’s chest.

Arthur sighs deeply and frees one arm to wrap it around John’s waist.

They stay like that, silent, for a while, just processing.

“Y’know,” John starts, voice rough, “I was thinkin’ ‘bout headin’ out for a while.”

“Headin’ out?”

“Road trip,” John murmurs, “Talked a little bit about it with Charles, asked Dutch if it’d be alright.”

“Hm,” Arthur tilts his head to look down at the younger, rubbing John’s back almost unconsciously in response to the anxious tone.

“Would… Would you want to come?”

Arthur chews at his lip in thought, staring at the faintly glowing, plastic stars.

“Sure.”

\--

They buy a map to mark out a couple of route options and Arthur starts joining him in the truck at night.

Talking until they’re slurring and sleeping until their respective duties around the ranch call them away.

\--

Something’s wrong with Charles, and somehow he’s easier to crack than Arthur was.

\--

“I fixed that horn,” Charles mutters as he’s screwing things back into place in the cab.

“Well, I ain’t beepin’ it now, for all the fuss it’ll cause,” John says lightheartedly, watching the tense lines of the older man.

Charles grunts in response and scoots closer on the bench to John so he can bend down and fuck with something under the passenger-side glove compartment.

“So…” John says, trying not to flush and fiddling with the now-working radio.

“So?” Charles murmurs.

“What’s up with you?”

Charles ignores the younger for a moment then sighs and hangs his head.

“I think I might be leaving, soon,” Charles says softly.

“Leaving?” John asks, a thrum of sadness going through him, and even though he’s leaving soon as well…

The way Charles is saying it sounds permanent.

Charles sighs again and carefully sits up, arm flush with John’s.

“I’m grateful to Dutch, I am,” Charles says quietly, staring down the hood of the truck, “But the way he’s been making decisions lately…”

John fights the knee-jerk instinct to defend the man who took him in and frowns, thumbing at the grooves in the steering wheel.

“I don’t know, John, but I don’t like it.”

Their eyes meet in the rearview mirror and John nods his reluctant understanding.

Then his eyes flick to the pile of blankets in the bed and he shoves open the window behind the front bench and awkwardly snatches the map.

He comes back to see Charles leaning back slightly with a quirked brow.

John flusters and opens the map, propping it up against the steering wheel.

“Me n’ Arthur are goin' on a road trip,” John says hurriedly, pointing to the different highlighted routes.

“Oh?” Charles murmurs curiously and leans in to open the map more, “To anywhere particular?”

“Just…” John swallows and ducks his head, admitting it for the first time, “Not here.”

Charles snorts and leans back, looking at John from the side.

“Is this an invitation, Johnny?” Charles asks, imitating Arthur.

“Oh- Don’t,” John scowls at the older man and starts folding the map back up, “It’s a goddamn deathwish, askin’ you and Arthur to gang up on me, s’what it is.”

Charles laughs, genuinely, and John tries to hold onto his annoyance but ends up joining in.

Charles rolls the screwdriver around in his hand before bumping shoulders with John and shrugging.

“If Arthur won’t mind, sure.”

\--

Arthur really, really, doesn’t mind.

\--

John wakes up that night as the trucks shifts and rolls over, expecting to see Arthur.

Instead, Charles has one knee on the mattress and is looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars with immense amusement.

“Arthur told me this is how you’ve been sleeping,” Charles says and taps one of the stars before crawling further in.

John shifts to the far edge of the mattress, mumbling, still only half-awake.

“Surprising amount of room,” Charles murmurs as he lays down.

“You took your shoes off?” John grunts, not willing to lift his head and check.

“Of course,” Charles scoffs.

“So you gonna come with us?”

“You sure you don’t want to just go with Arthur?”

John’s heads cocks in confusion at the tone.

“I mean,” Charles quirks his mouth to the side and makes a small gesture at the interior of the cab, “You and Arthur are… close.”

“... Uh-huh.”

“You’re sure I won’t get in the way?”

“Charles,” John moans tiredly, “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

The older man huffs, shaking his head.

“Just… See if you can even sleep in here,” John mutters, turning onto his stomach, “Me n’ Art are fine with it.”

“This a Queen?” Charles asks, poking at the mattress.

John hums in affirmation.

“How do you…? Hm,” Charles shifts onto his side to face John, “How do you and Arthur sleep?”

One of John’s eyes opens to squint at him, guarded.

“John,” Charles sighs, “I mean how are the three of us gonna do this?”

“Me n’ Art don’t take up much,” John says, muffled against the blanket.

Charles raises a brow at the younger curiously.

John presses his lips together and recloses his eye.

Charles watches the younger slip back under then follows suit.

\--

After they’ve said their goodbyes and goodnights, following a night of good food and better booze, Charles heads to his bed, Arthur to his own, and John…

John starts heading to his truck and then backtracks to the main house.

He ends up knocking on the frame of Arthur’s door quietly.

The door opens and John is faced with the older man in just his boxers.

“John?” Arthur asks, head tilted in concern.

“I... uh,” John’s brain catches up with where he is and his jaw works open and then fixes itself firmly closed.

He scratches at his forearm and avoids the older man’s eyes.

Arthur opens the door further and John mumbles an apology and ducks into the room.

“You alright?” Arthur asks as he shuts the door.

“I, uh,” John swallows and shifts on the wood floor, “I just felt weird about sleepin’ in the truck tonight, but I didn’t wanna be alone either, but now I’m realizin’ we’re gonna be sharin’ a bed for the next month and you probably don’t wanna share with me tonight.”

Arthur snorts quietly and sits on the edge of the bed where it’s pressed into the corner of his room.

John glances up at the drawings tacked to the wall and on the desk before finally looking at Arthur uncertainly.

“You can sleep here,” Arthur says.

“I can… Take the floor or somethin’...”

“John,” Arthur rolls his eyes, and jerks the covers back before slipping under them and laying down, “When was the last time you slept in a bed?”

“Technically it is a bed,” John mutters and slips off his shoes before shucking his jeans.

Arthur points to the half between himself and the wall, so John crawls onto the mattress and carefully wedges himself close to the wall.

The older man settles as John is trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

“C’mon,” Arthur mutters with his eyes closed, lifting one arm up.

John tries to swallow down the jumping of his heart as he takes the opportunity to burrow into the older man’s side.

\--

“It’s my truck!”

“You’re the smallest,” Arthur teases as he loads their bags into the bed before closing the hatch and gate.

John’s nose wrinkles in irritation and he can hear Charles snickering from the passenger seat.

Arthur grabs his shoulders and turns John around before guiding him to the driver-side door, nudging until the younger bitches quietly and climbs onto the bench, one leg on either side of the gearshift.

His knee knocks against Charles’ thigh and he mutters an apology before settling square in the middle of the bench.

Arthur sandwiches him in by settling in the driver’s seat and closing the door.

There’s a collective moment of ‘Are we doing this?’ between the three of them.

Then Arthur knocks John into Charles and Charles knocks John back into Arthur.

Arthur barks a laugh as John grumbles and Charles taps the spine of his book on the side of John’s thigh as the engine rumbles to life.

John twitches when Arthur’s hand goes between the younger’s legs to handle the gearshift.

Another reason he didn’t want to be in the god-forsaken middle.

He catches Charles watching him curiously and ducks forward to tune the radio as the pull out of the garage and amble up the path to the gates.

\--

The sun is just peaking over the treeline when they idle at the gates, Charles hops out, setting his book on the dash, then unlatches and swings open the heavy iron panel.

“Can’t believe I’ve been here for almost a decade,” John murmurs, looking back at the silhouette of the buildings in the side-mirror as Arthur pulls through to the other side of the fencing and waits for Charles to lock up and join them.

“Long time,” Arthur says gently and pats the inside of John’s knee lightly.

“I’m glad he’s comin’ with us,” John whispers, watching Charles walking back towards the truck.

“Me too,” Arthur sniffs and rests his hand lightly on John’s leg as Charles climbs back in, “Y’all ready?”

“As ever,” Charles jokes.

Arthur glances down at John and the younger nods, slowly and slightly at first, and then more enthusiastically, a smile pulling at his mouth.

“Alrighty,” Arthur says and the truck drives over the property line.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suh bitches  
> there's some ptsd and anxiety focusing on john's uh bad car experience so  
> also this chap is dedicated to [humbuggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humbuggy/pseuds/Humbuggy) on here who's fic [where the road is dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409294) finally got me off my ass inspired to finish this and many other things ty ty

Both John and Arthur are surprised when Charles starts humming along with the radio, seemingly unconscious of it. 

John shares a look with Arthur and raises a brow before looking back out the windshield. 

They drive miles and miles through farmland and dirt roads. 

They pass tractors and ATVs on these roads, not other trucks. 

John keeps his hands busy by worrying the loose threads on the edge of a hole in his jeans. 

He counts the calves he can see from the road, before the livestock farms turn to crops and he watches corn and canola and wheat pass by. 

“Did you not bring something to read?” Charles asks. 

“... No,” John says slowly, “I’m fine without it.”

“Aren’t you gonna get bored?”

“I don’t like…” John trails off, eyes moving away from Charles to watch the road ahead. 

He feels Arthur’s leg move to press more firmly against the side of his own and takes in a slow breath before tilting his head to look at Charles. 

“I’d rather watch the road,” John says and brings a hand up as he turns back, rubbing his cheek lightly, feeling the jagged scar tissue under his fingertips. 

“Oh,” Charles murmurs and re-opens his book where his thumb was keeping his place, his gaze lingering on John before dropping to the words keeping him from getting carsick. 

John swallows, his expression tightening unwillingly at the tension he created. 

He didn’t mean to, he should be _over this._

Arthur’s hand startles him when it drops from the steering wheel to his knee, squeezing firmly. 

It’s only been a couple hours and John already feels tired.

It was hotter in Arthur’s room than it is in the truck bed, causing him to frequently wake up and have to move away from Arthur even when he was inclined to cling to the older man. 

A late night, disrupted sleep, and the early start they had combine for a heaviness to John’s eyelids. 

John shifts lightly and presses his knee up into the touch. 

He lets his head fall back on the window between cab and bed, closing his eyes. 

\--

“Hey,” Arthur says from where he’s leaning into the cab, arms folded on the lowered window. 

John rubs blearily at his eyes, squinting at how bright it is outside the truck. 

“Charles is in there gettin’ some drinks,” Arthur says and waves his hand towards the gas station, “You oughta go n’ use the ‘facilities’.”

John snorts softly and rubs at his face before sliding across the bench, wincing at the tightness in his neck from having had it craned back for hours. 

“Go,” Arthur says and opens the door for the younger, “I gave Charles some cash, go get somethin’ for that sweet-tooth.”

John mutters his ascent, reaching his arms high above his head and twisting as he stretches and yawns. 

When he opens his eyes he sees Arthur’s gaze quickly move away from where it was aimed at the gap between shirt-hems and belt-buckle, his belly exposed by the stretching. 

John squints at him briefly before turning and heading to the store. 

\--

He slides back into the middle of the bench, nudging into Arthur, making room for Charles to climb in. 

They’ve stuffed their drinks into the little cooler that had been stored in the bed and it sits between Charles’ feet for easy access. 

Arthur’s palm brushes his thigh as the older man reaches for the gear shift and starts the truck. 

John doesn’t twitch, like he did the first few times. 

Instead, he finds himself hoping Arthur’s touch will linger, and he tries to look like he’s not acknowledging the contact. 

John instead focuses on digging through the bag of snacks, fishing out the neon green slip of Sour Skittles. 

He tears off one corner as they pull out onto the highway and shakes one into his palm, rolling it up until it’s pinched between his fingers. 

It’s purple. 

He lifts it up in front of Arthur’s face. 

The older man glances at John’s hand, then John, before rolling his eyes and looking back at the road, opening his mouth. 

John smirks slightly and drops the candy into Arthur’s mouth.

John turns back to face forward then looks at Charles, intending to offer him some of the candy, only to find the older man watching him curiously again. 

“You like these?” John shakes the bag, staring at the older man dead in the eye, daring Charles to say anything. 

Charles glances between him and Arthur before shrugging.

“Well do you _want_ some?”  

Charles huffs quietly and shakes his head, grabbing his book from the dash. 

\--

The longer they drive, the calmer John feels. 

Until Arthur and Charles decide to switch. 

He trusts Charles, implicitly, but he’s had years of observing Arthur driving, he knows how to read Arthur’s reactions, when to expect them slowing down or speeding up or switching lanes or being able to tell when Arthur is about to make a defensive maneuver by the way the older man would pat or squeeze his forearm.

John swallows thickly and scoots towards Arthur to make room for Charles, staring at the vending machines along the front wall of the rest stop. 

Charles closes the door and John clasps his hands together in his lap. 

He twitches lightly when Charles’ hand brushes his knee, seeing Charles glance at him as he lowers the e-brake and starts the truck. 

“You two good?” Charles asks softly, but John knows it’s aimed at him. 

“Ducky,” Arthur says, bending forward to dig in the bag of snacks, “John?”

“I’m… I’m good,” John says quietly. 

Charles studies him for a moment then shifts to reverse them out of the parking spot. 

John rubs the pad of his thumb over his other thumb’s nail, watching attentively as they merge onto the highway. 

\--

The sun’s starting to set behind them, and they only have about two hours until they reach their first camping spot. 

Arthur actually had the mind to call ahead and reserve them a site, knowing they wouldn’t get in before sundown. 

John hasn’t un-tensed since Charles got behind the wheel, his fingers tightly tangled together.

As they pull onto the exit-ramp Arthur’s leg presses against his. 

John looks over at the older man and Arthur holds out his barely-touched cola. 

“Thanks,” John murmurs, accepting the bottle and taking a sip. 

Arthur’s gaze moves slowly over his face, intense and careful. 

John looks back out the windshield. 

Arthur sighs quietly and pats his thigh. 

\--

John practically trips over himself to get several steps away from the truck as soon as Arthur is out of the way. 

Swallowing hard, trying to compose himself as he squints towards the layered shadows of the woods around them. 

Charles walks towards the little rickarack fence that marks the barrier of the campsite, stretching his arms out and then back to feel the pull in his chest, lookin’ at the pitch-dark lakewater. 

No stars nor moon tonight, a thick blanket of clouds rolling in from the Gulf instead, the last tails of a hurricane that’ll surely wither to nothing but a light shower by morning. 

He turns when he hears the tailgate and the latch of the camper shell being opened, watches Arthur lift the window, arm up, fingers wrapped around the rubber edge as he leans over John who’s got a bare knee on the rough bedliner, leaning in, reaching for their bags. 

John’s never been someone you’d describe as neat, for as long as Charles has known him, at least. 

But the kid takes a special pride in his truck. 

It’d been easy-going, working with John, who was eager to learn and shameless with his questions. 

Not badgering, but biting for knowledge with well-aimed inquiries over parts and purposes.

Shutting up promptly when Charles would explain something between asking for tools to be handed under the truck. 

It was nice. 

Charles sucks on his teeth as conflicting feelings rise in him. 

He’d been near-certain he was leaving the vdL ranch, moving on to try and find another home, another purpose, no longer certain he belonged. 

Until John’s offer, his unconditional invitation for Charles to somehow find a way to fit into the ‘sold as a pair’ relationship John and Arthur had. 

Charles’ gaze travels down the line of Arthur’s arm and across the broad shoulders, to the way Arthur’s hand it steadying John as the younger determinately retrieves their bags without having to get the dirt from his boots in the bed of the truck. 

\--

"John would never tell me, how you two sleep in here," Charles says lowly as he and Arthur are waiting for John to come back from the main camp site's bathroom. 

"... What are you askin'?" 

Charles huffs quietly and looks up over the lake.

"He did _that_ too, got defensive."

"I ain't-" Arthur huffs and sniffs, "Some people don't get it." 

"I'm just asking, how are we sleeping, Arthur?"

"Pr'ly same way we drivin', John in the middle."

"John… In the middle, but closer to you, right?" 

"Right," Arthur says gruffly and yanks off his boots, putting them in the gutter at the foot of the mattress before crawling back onto the bed. 

Charles follows him and John returns a few minutes later, in a big used-to-be-Arthur’s shirt and boxers, a bundle of clothes in his hands. 

He crawls in with them after shoving his clothes into his duffle where it's with the others' in the cab. 

"Open the windows," John mutters tiredly, "So we can close this n' not let every bug in Texas sleep with us."

Arthur chuckles and helps John close the gate and hatch while Charles slides open the screened windows. 

Then they lay down, side by side by side, awake enough to care about appearances but tired enough to not want to talk about it. 

"Jesus," John mutters after a minute of stillness passes, "Just-" 

The youngest of the three turns towards Arthur and shoves the older man's arms out of the way before burrowing into Arthur's chest and settling down. 

Arthur's arms hover mid-air as he looks over John's shoulder to see Charles watching them, curious but unjudging. 

He slowly lowers his arms, pillowing his head with one and letting the other fall around John's waist. 

"You got room?" John asks Charles, muffled and sleep-slurred. 

"Yeah..." Charles says slowly, "Plenty."

John grumbles something unintelligible then burrows closer to Arthur. 

"G'night," The youngest says. 

The older men echo him. 

\--

It’s colder at night by the water. 

They’re used to the minor drop at night in the rolling hills of vdL ranch, not this. 

John shifts uncomfortably, just awake enough to be aware of his physical being and, consequently, how cold he is. 

He wiggles closer to the warmth in front of him, pressing himself against Arthur’s front, the older man radiating heat. 

Only to hear an amused huff above his head and realize. 

This isn’t Arthur. 

John leans back and tilts his head up to look at who he’s plastered himself to. 

Charles is watching him sleepily, eyes barely open, loose strands of hair hanging down the sides of his face. 

“Sorry,” John whispers sheepishly and ducks his head, starting to back up, fully intending to return to his regular place in Arthur’s arms. 

Charles’ arm is heavy on his waist and its weight doesn’t lift when John tries to shift away.

John looks up questioningly. 

“It’s fine,” Charles says quietly, “You’re not bothering me.”

“You sure?” John asks hesitantly, “I know… I mean even Arthur complains ‘bout it sometimes.”

Charles’ brows furrow slightly as he studies John. 

“Even if you-” Charles sighs tiredly and closes his eyes, lifting his arm and freeing John, “It’s bound to happen again.”

John hesitates, faced with this permission. 

He worries his lower lip as his gaze darts over Charles’ expression. 

Sleepy, but trusting, more vulnerable than Charles shows himself around anyone else. 

Anyone other than him and Arthur. 

John’s suddenly intensely grateful that Charles agreed to come with them, a horrible suspicion in the back of his mind that Charles wouldn’t have stuck around with them gone. 

John slowly shifts closer, shuffling down and resting his temple on Charles’ upper arm. 

The older man tenses in surprise, then quickly relaxes, Charles’ arm re-settling on his waist as John closes his eyes. 

\--

He wakes up facing Arthur, who’s looking at him with an expression John doesn’t know how to interpret. 

John shifts and rubs his eyes, blinking the fuzziness away. 

“Mornin’,” John mumbles. 

“Mornin’,” Arthur says, and his voice is clear enough that John can tell the older man has been awake for a while. 

“Time?” John asks, covering his face roughly as he yawns. 

“Uh,” Arthur frowns and turns onto his back holding his wrist up and peering at his watch, “Near eight.”

John hums and looks down at Charles’ arm slung over his waist. 

He can feel Charles’ chest brushing his back with each inhale and debates on moving, not wanting to wake the older man. 

He looks back up to find Arthur watching them again and feels an odd twinge of guilt that has his expression pinching in confusion at his own emotions. 

“Is… Is this okay?” John whispers, looking pointedly down at Charles’ arm around him.

“What?” Arthur asks, eyes widening, _“What?_ Yeah, ‘course.”

John frowns mildly at the older man. 

“I’m… Gonna go check out the site,” Arthur says quickly and scoots down to the edge of the mattress, shoving on his boots and climbing out the hatch. 

Charles twitches awake behind him when the hatch closes and John twists around to look at the older man. 

“Where’s he going?” Charles murmurs.

“Dunno.”

Charles hums and shifts, unwrapping from around John and stretching, arching his back up, eyes closed tight. 

John turns onto his back and has a brief realization that he’s never seen Charles like this before. 

Charles was always early to rise, often fully dressed and tidy before John crossed paths with him in the main house. 

Not disheveled, with crust in the corners of his eyes, his hair rustled by sleep, shirt crumpled, the collar not quite in place, pulled more to one side, caught and twisted around Charles’ abdomen. 

It’s… Good, somehow, a little bitty weight lifting from his heart he didn’t know existed, with this evidence of Charles’ trust in them. 


End file.
